TFSC
by sierpinsky
Summary: Transformers Slash Central: ProwlXJazz Red AlertXInferno. Sticky  Inferno and Red Alert are going at it like turborabbits in the security room. All poor Prowl wants to do is work, but his office and the security room share a wall. And he gets distracted.
1. TFSC PJ IR Behind Closed Doors chapter 1

TFSC PJ IR

Pairing: Red Alert X Inferno, Prowl X Jazz  
>Universe: G1, or whatever you like<br>Warnings: Sticky  
>Notes: IMPORTANT PLEASE READ. I want you to have a good understanding of the setting. :3<p>

The command deck of The Ark is unique. The security consoles are in a room next door to the command deck instead of being a part of it (because of Red Alert. He practically lives there).

If you're standing the corridor outside the command deck:  
>Straight ahead - door to command deck<br>Door to the right of the command deck - Optimus' office  
>Door to the left of the command deck - Security console room<br>Door to the right of Optimus' office - Jazz's office  
>Door to the left of the security console room - Prowl's office.<p>

Here we go. :3

* * *

><p>"Oh <em>Primus<em>- Inferno!"

Inferno growled triumphantly into Red Alert's throat at the impassioned cry. Inferno had done his best to coax the Security Director out of the security room, but when that had failed, Inferno channelled his energy at pleasuring Red Alert there instead. He'd managed to get Red Alert to shed the layers of facades he wore, and was exuberant when Red Alert's cold exterior had cracked and the wanton mech within had emerged.

Red Alert's helm thunked back on the wall that Inferno was interfacing him into, giving him more access to his throat. Inferno suckled on Red Alert's lines, glossa teasingly swiping over the turgid energon line.

"C'mon. Harder-!" Red Alert ground out, squirming frustratedly at his lack of leverage. Inferno happily complied, his hands slipping from under Red Alert's thighs to cup his aft. Red Alert locked his legs together, heels digging into Inferno's lower back. Inferno pounded into Red Alert, the smaller mech's aft banging into the wall on every thrust.

"Oh yes..." Red Alert moaned in ecstasy. "Give it to me, Inferno..."

"You're so hot, Red..." Inferno panted, his cable pistoning in Red Alert's port, which squeezed impossibly tight around his girth.

"Inferno-" Red Alert clenched his denta together, mimicking the movement of his port. "I'm coming... Inferno!"

* * *

><p>"I'm coming..." -<em>bang bang bang<em>- "... Inferno!"

Prowl winced, losing his thought train for he umpteenth time that afternoon, no thanks to Red Alert and Inferno interfacing rambunctiously against the wall his office and the security room shared. He valiantly tried to ignore the din... And failed miserably. His codpiece was unbearably confining. His fingers twitched around the datapad in his hands as he concentrated on keeping them there, not really realizing that he wasn't reading the datapad anymore. Instead, he repeated a mantra in his processor: I will not I will not I will not-

Inferno's low pleasure filled moan, though muffled, tickled Prowl's audios, sending a shiver down his spine.

After a short battle with himself, Prowl sighed, his resolve crumbling. He locked his door and quietly set down his datapad, faceplates heating. Carefully, he lay back in his chair and reached down. He bit his lip when his thumb brushed over the red arrow on his black pelvic plating, then sighed in relief when he released his cable, which jumped to full pressure immediately, demanding release. Prowl stared at it in dismay, and then gingerly closed his fingers over it.

A gust of air hissed through his denta and he squeezed his optics shut. Carefully, he rested his thumb on the tip, and with a quick rub, pleasure coursed through his systems. He let the wave pass, then self-consciously, he glanced at the door, then down at the hand that was wrapped around his cable.

How inappropriate, Prowl thought, his lips twisting. This was his _office_, no less.

With a frustrated sigh, Prowl offlined his optics, let his helm rest on the back of his chair, and he began to pump his cable.

Prowl tried to keep his pace slow, but his body demanded more stimulation and soon, he was alternating between tensing up his whole frame and melting into his chair, one hand holding a death grip on his armrest while the other worked at his cable. His vents were coming in ragged pants, and he was spiralling deeper and deeper into a pleasure-filled haze, but something still wasn't quite right...

Prowl let his interface panel slide open, and he gasped as cool air washed over his port. He had been so turned on that even his port was eager for a cable filling it, and though that had bothered him at first, it now worked to his advantage as Prowl dipped two fingers into himself and coated them in the liberal amount of lubricant collected there. Quickly, he rubbed his fingers together, coating his palm in the fluid, then returned his attention to his cable. Ah- much better. His fingers slicked smoothly over the sensitive metal, and his pleasure spiked. Almost there...

Prowl had a split second warning when he heard the lock on his door click before Jazz bounded in.

Prowl hastily seized his datapad in his clean hand, hooking his heels into the insides of his desk and pulling himself closer to the desk. His fuel pump thudded hard and fast, and he forced his face into something resembling a calm and neutral expression. Oh slag...

Jazz stopped short of Prowl's desk, pursing his lips. Despite having a visor, Prowl could tell that he was frowning.

"Your door was locked so I overrode it," Jazz pointed out.

"Good afternoon, Jazz. How may I help you? If it's not important, I'm busy now so if you don't mind..." Prowl said politely, blatantly ignoring Jazz's statement. He silently willed his vents to slow... And for Jazz to go away and leave him in 'peace'.

Jazz scrutinized Prowl. He could easily tell that was something off about the tactician. Prowl's doorwings were tense, held a tiny bit too high, the colour of his optics was a shade too bright, and his grip on the datapad was too tight. Jazz strode right up to Prowl's desk. His palms landed on its surface with a loud thunk and Prowl sucked in a quick vent of air. Jazz leaned into Prowl's personal space, and in turn, Prowl leaned back instinctively. The tension in the air thickened.

Before either mech could say anything, though, a steady _thump thump thump_started up, emanating from the accursedly thin wall, then-

"Ah-! Inferno!"

Jazz shot an incredulous look at the wall, but he caught Prowl's involuntary shiver in his periphery and he fixed his gaze back on Prowl. Jazz looked a little closer. Prowl's cheeks had a hint of colour in them, and his doorwings were trembling faintly. A sudden thought occurred to the saboteur. Carefully, without moving his head, he glanced down.

Prowl got worried when the Jazz didn't move for a while. Blast that visor. I can't tell where he's looking...

Jazz's gaze fixed firmly downwards, optics glued to Prowl's gleaming, wet fingers and his painfully erect cable. Oh my... He's bigger than I thought. Jazz resisted the urge to lick his lips. He took a careful sniff, and there it was- the delicious, tangy scent of Prowl's lubricant.

There was a barely perceptible shift in Jazz's demeanour, and dread and embarrassment knotted in Prowl's tanks. Jazz _knew_. Prowl was never going to live this down. He slumped a fraction deeper into his seat, and Jazz, fighting hard against the grin that threatened to split his face, asked bluntly, "are you getting off?"

"I- what- but-" Prowl spluttered, energon rushing to colour his cheeks. Without even waiting for a proper answer, Jazz leapt up onto Prowl's table, predatory and feline, and the next moment, he was in Prowl's lap. The momentum pushed the chair back, and it rolled across the floor to hit the wall with a loud bang, the impact jarring Prowl. Jazz rolled with it, however, and his hands closed around Prowl's slick spike, rubbing it and halting it's depressurization. Prowl's hands flew to Jazz's shoulders, his optics offlining in pleasure.

"Ooh..." he gasped. Damn, Jazz was good. The saboteur's black fingers tightened up and down Prowl's cable in a wave-like motion, thumb busy teasing the slit on the cable's head.

Somehow, Jazz managed to get Prowl out of the chair and onto the floor, his back up against _that_wall. Prowl barely paid the thumps any heed, though, because Jazz squirmed down Prowl's body, regretfully letting go of Prowl's cable but quickly taking it into his mouth. His head bobbed between Prowl's thighs, glossa zigzagging over the bottom of the cable and swirling over the leaking tip. Prowl's hands clenched and unclenched against the floor.

"Ah-!"

Prowl gasped helplessly when Jazz teasingly flicked two fingers in and out of his dripping, flexing port, the electrical charge building and making Jazz's fingertips and tongue tingle... Then Prowl overloaded violently, valve clamping around Jazz's three fingers which he thrust in at the last moment, hot transfluid spurting from Prowl's cable into Jazz's waiting and hungry mouth. Prowl's helm thunked back against the wall as he arched. A primal sound of release was ripped from him, and his lips unconsciously shaped into the designation of the mech whose head was busy between his thighs-

"Jazz-!"

Inferno's good-natured laughter could be heard through the wall. Absolutely mollified, Prowl pressed his face into Jazz's shoulder as the saboteur reached over with a chuckle and rapped his knuckles on the wall.

"We're not done yet," he called teasingly.

"What?" Prowl protested weakly, trying to sound indignant despite the fuzziness of post-coital bliss in his processor. "I... Ah. _Ahhhhhh_..."

* * *

><p>Prime happily headed to his office after a good long chat with Ironhide, energon cube in his hand. He frowned as he heard some bangs and clangs coming from the end of the corridor and checked the schedule- the twins were on monitor duty in the command deck. Tsk-ing, Prime strode into the command deck... Only to find it silent, both red and yellow Lamborghinis working diligently at their stations.<p>

Naturally, Prime was stunned.

"What-?"

Sideswipe looked up.

"Oh Prime," he smiled sweetly, putting Optimus instantly ill at ease. "What brings you here?"

Sunstreaker sullenly looked over his shoulder and, spotting Prime, his scowl morphed into a knowing smirk and he turned back to his work with a quiet and sinister chuckle.

"But... Where's all the noise coming from?" Prime asked, confused.

A black hand landed on a glossy, red, Lamborghini chest-plate.

"You thought it was us?" Sideswiped gasped in indignation, fighting a Cheshire grin. "Of course not! We're working very hard here, aren't we, Sunny?"

"Mmph." Sunstreaker nodded his assent.

"I'm so hurt you thought it was us, Prime."

"But... Where's all the noise coming from?" Prime repeated his question.

Sideswipe's lips curled into a mischievous smile.

"From the offices, of course."

Warily, Prime backed out of the command deck. He automatically reached to knock on Jazz's door before he realised that the noise was coming from _behind_him.

He turned and disbelievingly stared at the doors of the offices belonging to the most rigid, stick-up-the-aft, rule/regulation/protocol-loving mechs on the ship.

No _way_…

"Mm-mm... You taste great, Prowler..."

"Anf- ah- Jazz please-! I can't take it anymore... Jazz! Oh Jazz..."

"You're so hot like that, Red... Bent over the table for me..."

"I-Inferno... I think I'm going to-! Ahhhhhh..."

Prime's jaw dropped behind his battle mask, and his processor stuttered to a stop.

* * *

><p>"Ironhide!"<p>

Ratchet burst into the mess hall, searching for the red mech.

"Ratchet!" Ironhide waved, perplexed at Ratchet's unusually flustered behaviour. "What's going on?"

"Have you seen Prime?" He skidded to a halt before Ironhide, puffing with exertion.

"Ah just had a drink with him before he left for the command deck. Why?"

Ratchet scowled. "He's very late for a routine check-up and he hasn't been answering his comm. On top of that, between giving him pings on his comm. frequency, I've been checking his locator beacon and he's been standing outside the command deck for the past half an hour." Suddenly, his gaze sharpened and he pinned Ironhide with a suspicious stare. "You didn't put anything in his energon, did you?"

"Hey now," Ironhide protested, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Why would I do something like that for?"

Ratchet sighed, rolling his optics skywards. "You tell me. Anyway, I think he stalled or something. Mind helping me get him?"

"Not at all." Ironhide got up, stretched languorously (ignoring various cracks and pops that had Ratchet wincing) and headed out of the rec room.

They found Prime, frozen like a statue, outside the doors on the left side of the corridor, hand poised as if to press the buzzer on the door to Prowl's office. His optics were the colour of what humans called 'the blue screen of death'.

Ratchet swept a scanner over Prime and Ironhide waved a hand in front of Prime's face.

"He seems to have stalled." Ratchet opens a panel at the back of Prime's head and fiddled around a bit. "Ironhide- wanna get those doors open? I think what's behind them is the cause."

"Sure thing." Ironhide began to key in his override codes, but then... "Wait. Ain't these Prowl's and Red Alert's offices-?"

The doors slid open.

* * *

><p>author's notes: ... So what happens next? You tell me. ;) If you've been getting tons of alerts for this story, I apologise because I have to keep re-submitting this because EATS UP MY ITALLICS AND LINES, DAMNIT! *ends rant*<p> 


	2. TFSC PJ IR Behind Closed Doors chapter 2

TFSC PJ IR Chapter 2: Behind Closed Doors

Hi everyone! A huge THANK YOU for all the support you've given me. I never expected such a huge response. I'm really happy for all the contributions; as far as possible, I've tried to use them all. BUT I'm going to need your help again-

I have other oneshot slashfics, or as I like to call them, the TFSC fics. Would you rather I post them here as additional chapters or as a separate fic? Your feedback will be greatly appreciated.

An especially big thank you to people who reviewed this: Anonfeather, Silberstreif, Two Sides of a Shadow, Darkeyes17, MeowMix, Gatekat, Nnoca, Yami-Yugi3… I'll reply to them soon! I promise! *shot

Love y'all! :)

Now on to the good stuff.

* * *

><p>Jazz hefted Prowl's leg onto his shoulder, the other already resting comfortably in the crook of his elbow. Prowl's aft slid repeatedly over Jazz's thighs, hands braced on the wall behind him as Jazz drove into him with deep, powerful strokes, hitting all the right spots within him.<p>

"Nngh _Jazz_..." Prowl groaned, dizzy with pleasure, having shed all his inhibitions after the first overload. Jazz put just the right amount of pressure in his rarely-used port, and Prowl focused on the sensation of velvety friction that Jazz moving within him generated. Jazz panted hard, Prowl's port perfectly hot, slick and deliciously tight. It had taken some work preparing him, but once Jazz got inside, Prowl was completely worth the effort. They rocked together in a fast-paced tempo, both racing towards an overload, but Jazz was faster. When Prowl's port was beginning to reach the critical level of charge, Jazz was already there. He jerked out of Prowl and came with a shout, silvery transfluid spurting out of his cable and splattering over Prowl's stomach.

"Jazz!" Prowl screamed in frustration, port flexing helplessly. He was _so_ close, slag it! Jazz languidly licked his way up Prowl's body, finally brushing his transfluid over Prowl's lips.

"I like to see you squirm," Jazz growled, his voice low and sultry. His hand reached between them and his thumb oh-so-lightly circled the entrance to Prowl's port, coming to rest on the sensory node at the anterior of Prowl's port. Prowl gasped, trembling.

"Jazz..." Prowl's tone had a hint of pleading in it.

"Beg." Jazz purred, his smile playful and sexy.

"I- what?" Prowl started to protest, but then Jazz held something before his face, and Prowl's optics crossed comically as he focused on the pleasure baton in Jazz's hand. Jazz flicked the switch and it hummed to life, vibrating slightly in his grip.

"Beg," Jazz repeated. He adjusted the dial on the base, Prowl watching his fingers with wide optics as they twisted the dial to the max. Charge crackled over the baton's surface. Prowl's gaze flicked over to Jazz's, and his empty port clenched, yearning. He scowled, then gave in, his expression turning submissive, optics half hooded in pleasure, lips parted and pouty, and breathy gasps escaped his vents.

"_Please_..." Prowl begged, reaching down to tease Jazz's headlights. Jazz shuddered. Prowl shifted, acutely aware of the warm transfluid that coated both their bellies. He licked his lips, and he knew that Jazz tracked the motion as his glossa swiped over his lips. Prowl put on his most seductive voice. "Please... _master_..."

Jazz purred, impressed, and incredibly turned on by the display. He sat back, touching the tip of the baton to Prowl's entrance. Prowl mewled, shivering. Keeping his view on Prowl's expression, Jazz suddenly thrust the baton into Prowl, and overload instantly slammed into the tactician. Oh it hurt, but it hurt so_ good_, the pain crackling over his sensory net before wave after wave of pleasure crashed into him. His mouth dropped open, optics offlined in rapture; and his back arched, sirens and doorwings scraping on the floor, thighs trembling. The pleasure baton jumped in Jazz's hand at the force of Prowl's port clamping down on it at the height of his passion. Prowl cried out in ecstasy, way beyond being able to care if anyone heard him...

* * *

><p>Wow, Red Alert <em>really<em> has stamina, Inferno thought blearily, appreciatively eyeing the Lambo as he sat astride his hips, enthusiastically bouncing against the fire truck's plating. Inferno was beyond tired, but apparently Red couldn't get enough, and had simply knocked a rather unsteady Inferno to the ground and mounted him. After multiple processor-blowing overloads, Inferno was barely in any position to resist Red Alert, so he simply let Red do as he pleased with his body. Red Alert had Inferno's hose-hand in his mouth, his hot mouth working desperately at it, licking, nibbling, teasing, and despite Inferno's doubts as to whether he could even reach another overload, he found himself going rigid and arching off the floor, a strangled gasp of pleasure escaping him. Red Alert's port milked Inferno's cable for what little transfluid it had left as he bounced, the charge building...

* * *

><p>Several things happened at once.<p>

"HOLY SLAG-!" Ironhide hollered, jumping back. He caught a glimpse of Red Alert, surprised but still busy going at it, was suddenly distracted when Prowl outdid his horrified shout in decibels, then, as he watched, Red Alert suddenly tossed his head back, hands tightening around Inferno's, and coming with a hoarse cry. Ironhide's yell startled Ratchet, who, in turn, accidentally jabbed something in Optimus' processor. Prime spasmed then toppled forward, taking Ironhide with him as he fell to the ground.

In the silence that followed, four pairs of optics (okay, fine, three pairs and one visor) turned to him. Red Alert rudely flipped Ironhide the bird with a 'frag off, 'Hide' before he got up and headed over to the access panel with a surprisingly steady gait, cycling the doors shut. In contrast, Prowl squeaked, gasping in surprise, scrambling for some semblance of dignity, and wincing when his movements caused the pleasure baton to be roughly jerked out of him. Both Ironhide and Jazz's optics were on the string of glistening lubricant that followed the pleasure baton out of Prowl's port. Comically, their gazes flicked up in unison as Ratchet stepped in front of Ironhide and tossed a tube to Jazz.

"That's for Prowl," he said, gesturing at the pair of them. "Help him with it, will you? He'll probably need it." Prowl had curled up, his doorwings droopy against the wall and face buried in his knees as he mumbled and muttered to himself. Ratchet shook his head and reached for the button to shut the door, leaving them in privacy.

* * *

><p>"Oh my goodness- Jazz!" Prowl cried, lifting his head and glaring as soon as they were alone again. Caught between fury, pleasure and mortification, cleansing fluid sparkled in his optics, and a dark blush burned his cheeks.<p>

"Salve for your port." Jazz read the label.

"What?"

Jazz crawled over to Prowl. "Here let me-"

"No!" Prowl backed up against the wall, bringing his hands up in a defensive position, twisting his body away, then- "Ah- ow...!" Prowl grimaced. He was so sore!

"Prowl," Jazz pleaded. "I feel really bad for... For everything. Let me make it up to you, at least?"

Prowl paused. Jazz's concern seemed to be genuine, and his expression was open and distressed. Prowl shifted, considering. When he had to suppress a wince at the slight movement, he relented.

"Fine."

A tad shyly, he looked away and let his legs drop open, baring his port to Jazz. Jazz fought to urge to take Prowl again when the tactician's glistening, quivering port came into full view, and instead, squeezed the salve onto his fingers before reaching forward and gently pressing them into Prowl. Prowl gasped when Jazz's fingers, cold with salve, parted the soft folds within him. He swallowed hard, having to forcibly quash the desire that flared up again and rampaged over his systems.

"How're you feeling, babe?" Jazz asked, voice pitched low and quiet. His free hand rested on Prow's thigh, thumb stroking over the gap between Prowl's inner thigh and hip plating.

"F-fine!" Prowl tried to keep his voice steady but then Jazz rotated his wrist to spread the salve on the upper wall of Prowl's port and Jazz had to suppress a smirk when the tactician's answer came out as a squeak. Prowl's hips twitched, simultaneously wanting to grind down on Jazz's fingers and squirm away at the same time. The corner of Jazz's lips curled up. He leaned forward, lips a hair's breadth from Prowl's cable, which had depressurized and retreated into housing.

"You sure?" He breathed, warm breath ghosting over the exposed tip of Prowl's cable.

"Ah-"

Jazz laughed when Prowl's cable butted his nose before the tactician could even form a proper reply. Jazz quickly licked up Prowl's cable, aiding its pressurization. When it was fully erect, Prowl buried his face in his hands, cheeks burning against his palms.

"Damnit," he groaned.

"Look at me, Prowler," Jazz purred, lips brushing over Prowl's cable. "I'm gonna give you a show."

Prowl wanted to protest, but then Jazz's hot mouth closed over his cable, and Prowl's hands fell to his sides in surrender.

* * *

><p>Ironhide stared blankly at the door ahead, Prime a dead weight across his back.<p>

What-

"Ironhide."

What is this-

"Ironhide, help me with Optimus."

I don't even-

"'Hide..."

"Yargh!"

Fingers delicately caressed their way up Ironhide's thigh, and he jumped so violently that Prime rolled off his back and onto the floor.

"Wha- what was that for?" Ironhide demanded, scrambling up and painfully conscious that his cheeks were heating up.

"You weren't listening to me." Ratchet said matter-of-factly, as if he hadn't just molested Ironhide. He had his hands on his hips, which were cocked to one side. "Help me get Optimus to the medbay."

"Uh, ah- yeah. Sure." Ironhide picked up Optimus' legs and Ratchet slid his arms under Optimus', and together, they hauled their comatose commander to the medbay.

* * *

><p>... Where am I...?<p>

Prime slowly came to, feeling as though his processor was moving through honey. Slowly, orange swam into focus and his first reaction was panic when memory files from just before he blacked out were pushed to the forefront of his processor, but then he realized he was lying down, and therefore, relatively safe, so he relaxed into the medical berth.

Wait.

He was in the medbay, but... Ratchet never let his patients wake up alone. So where...?

Prime rolled his head to the side, and regretted it instantly.

The translucent screen between berths was pulled shut, but Optimus could see the distinct silhouette of his CMO bent over the med berth next to his, and the weapon specialist thrusting into him from behind.

Pleasured moans and groans punctuated the steady thumps of metal against metal.

"Nngh Ratchet..."

"Shh... Ah-! My patients are trying to rest... Mmh..."

* * *

><p>There were some things that bots just didn't need to know, say, that their best friends and trusted officers were 'facing each other senseless in their workplaces. But to find out that <em>six<em> of them were going at it in their offices in the same day _and_ to catch them doing it was just a little too much for even Optimus to handle, and he blacked out again.

* * *

><p>GUYS I'M SORRY FOR THE SHIT ENDING<p>

BUT IT HAS TO BE THIS WAY.

I couldn't think of anything else. *shot

Thanks for reading!

P.S. Just a genteel reminder to reply to my question- more TFSC fics here, or posted as separate stories? Arigatou.


	3. TFSC tentekoru kinku Chapter 1

TFSC tenteko-ru kinku (ignore my working title)

Pairing: Prowl X Jazz… maybe X Optimus?  
>Universe: G1, or whatever you like<br>Warnings: Sticky, tentacle kink, and like the previous one, shameless pwp.

This has no relation to TFSC PJ IR. I'm sorry guys, my muse kinda died on me so poor Optimus doesn't get any. BUT he has a chance. Please read my question at the bottom!

Another warning: TOTALLY UNBETA-D. I'm looking for a beta… if you're interested, beta this and send it to me in a pm. Thanks!

Now enjoy.

* * *

><p>It was rare for the command staff to be absent from the Ark, but with the glorious weather the day after a successful battle against the 'cons, Jazz declared that Prowl needed a break, and with Prime's help, they kicked him out of the Ark.<p>

Prowl had grudgingly trailed behind as the three of them drove out of the Ark, quiet and sullen, but then with the fresh crispness of Spring and the gentle sunlight and breeze, Prowl's mood gradually improved. Jazz slowed and gently nudged Prowl's bumper.

"It ain't so bad, right?" Jazz said softly.

"Mm." Prowl's response was non-commital. Prime merely gave a rumbling chuckle.

They eventually reached a narrow road that curved around a sparkling lake. The water rippled gently as children splashed in the cool water and their parents watched them fondly from the plush, grassy banks.

"Can we stop there?" Jazz asked eagerly. "I brought some energon..."

"Why not?" Prime responded. They transformed and strolled down to the water's edge, waving back at the children. Jazz abruptly dropped to the ground, sprawling on the grass. Prime sat beside Jazz, reclining slightly, and Prowl's doorwing flicked as he cast a critical optic over the organic greenery before slowly lowering himself to the grass.

Jazz produced three energon cubes, tossing one to Prowl and one to Optimus before raising his cube and taking a hearty swig.

It was a relaxing afternoon, and they could almost forget that they were in the middle of a war. The sky was just beginning to go orange when Jazz stood, stretched and announced that he was going to jump in the lake. He transformed and backed up, then raced down the gentle slope and transformed back just before he hit the water with an almighty splash.

"Jazz!" Prowl exclaimed, flicking his doorwings to rid them of water. Jazz slowly surfaced, his back facing them, and he tipped his head to the side with an "oops".

Water flowed off him, running like gleaming gems down his plating, over the curve of his bumper and aft, dripping off his fingers and landing with soft plops into the lake. He stood hip-deep in the water, and the waterline caressed the contours of his aft. His silhouette was outlined golden by the light of the setting sun.

Prowl's annoyed spiel died on his glossa, optics wandering. Jazz quirked an enigmatic smile and dived back underwater.

Prowl mentally shook himself and hid behind his cube of energon. The peaceful moment of companionable silence between Prowl and Optimus was shattered when Jazz exploded out of the water, gasping and spluttering and scrambling to reach the banks. Optimus and Prowl leapt to their feet just as Jazz coughed, "There- there's something down there..."

They seized Jazz's elbows and helped pull him to higher ground.

"What was that?" Prowl kept a wary eye on the innocently scintillating water.

Jazz lowered himself to the grass, then he hugged his knees to his chest. "I dunno, man," Jazz's gaze focused on the water lapping at the shore. "It just came outta nowhere, grabbed me and went for my transformation seams. If it had broken my waterproofing seals, I'd be a goner."

Optimus exchanged a glance with Prowl over Jazz's head.

"Well," Optimus intoned. "If there's something there that could harm a Transformer, it could potentially be a threat to humans too."

Prowl nodded in agreement.

"Prowl, get the humans away. Jazz, find some cover to shoot from. I'll figure out a way to get this thing out of the water."

Dual 'yes sir's sounded, and the two black and white bots departed in opposite directions.

Prime stared hard at the lake. That thing had only targeted Jazz. It probably hadn't harmed humans because the humans seemed unaware of it, or they wouldn't be letting their offspring anywhere a potentially dangerous underwater creature.

Prime glanced at Prowl. He had mostly succeeded in shooing the humans off, and the last few were slowly trickling away, hoping to see some action, but Prowl was on full prickery mode and they left soon after.

An eerie silence descended and the occasional birdcall set everyone on edge. Optimus sent a few experimental shots into the water, but other than scaring the birds away, nothing happened.

Finally, and a little reluctantly, Optimus came to a decision.

"Jazz, I need you to go closer to the waterline and use your deep-penetrating scans to scan the water."

"…"

"Jazz?"

"… Yessir."

"Be careful…"

Jazz didn't like those orders one bit. But it made sense- only he had Black Ops-grade scanners that could penetrate the cold depths of the lake. Awkwardly, he slid on his belly till he was among some damp weeds at the water's edge. Holding out his photon rifle, hoping it would provide some form of competent defence, he gazed out across the water and activated his scanner, starting to sweep with agonizing slowness due to the depth of the water.

He didn't notice the water rippling right under his nose.

* * *

><p>"Prowl…"<p>

"Yes Prime?"

"Is that… a tentacle monster hauling Jazz into the water?"

"…I think so, Prime."

* * *

><p>Jazz didn't even have time to scream. It was more of a strangled gasp before he was dragged underwater. Thick, powerful tentacles quickly ensnared him.<p>

"Prime! Prowl!" Jazz frantically commed the bots who were safely on dry ground.

"We're coming," Prowl replied, a hint of panic in his voice.

One tentacle went around his torso and neck and he desperately scrabbled at it, but another one secured his arms. Jazz's photon rifle disappeared into the black depths of the lake and he panicked, kicking at the beast with all his might. It did no good, though- two more tentacles came round to wrap round his legs, effectively immobilizing him. After a moment more of futile struggling, all the fight went out of him. He had run through dozens of solutions to his predicament, and none of them were feasible. A tentacle came up and seemed to smugly prod his face.

_Hurry, guys,_ Jazz thought desperately, _or-?_!

Another tentacle wrapped around his right thigh, winding and sliding over his plating. This one was strangely different- instead of being brutal and unyielding like the ones that held him immobile, this one was almost caressing, gentle and slow. Jazz tried to look down, but the tentacles wrapped around his bumper were in the way. But he felt, oh-so-acutely, the tentacle touch his interface panel.

_What?_

The tip of the tentacle curled and uncurled gently against his plating, and Jazz couldn't help but shiver. Then another one began doing the same thing against his headlight and audio horn, and a strangled sound that wasn't one of pain escaped him. Then, all at once, without relinquishing their grip on his limbs, the tentacles slowly slithered over his plating, velvety smooth. Jazz's dermal sensors tingled crazily, and he writhed in the tentacles' grip. I didn't take long for his panel to click open.

Jazz hissed at the icy water against his sensitive plating. He couldn't believe this was happening. _Maybe I'm just imagining things- ooh!_ A tentacle circled his entrance, round and round, maddeningly teasing, each time just avoiding the sensory node at the anterior of Jazz's port. His hips twitched, wanting to simultaneously jerk away from and closer to that tentacle. Then, finally, it stilled, and eased itself into his port.

A long, low groan escaped Jazz. The sensation of the cool, slick tentacle in his burning port was driving him crazy, and he was beyond caring what exactly it was that was fragging him this good. It carefully parted his walls, stopping halfway to let him adjust. Jazz's port clenched hungrily around it, and in response, it wriggled in him. Jazz arched, his head dropping back in abandon. He gave into the sensation, letting it push all the way in, filling him and teasing the node at the top of his port. Jazz went rigid, focusing on the way it moved within him, undulating and twisting as it gently thrust in, out, in, out…

* * *

><p>Optimus and Prowl stood shin-deep in the water, employing all the scans they had, guns sweeping the surface of the water.<p>

"I think- ARGH!" Prowl was cut off mid-sentence as when he felt something wrap around his leg and haul it out from under him. He went crashing into the water, the lake thawing up waves around him and obscuring his vision, but he instinctively fired a few shots and he was released. Prime seized his upper arm, hauling him out of the water and firing a few shots into the water for good measure. They stumbled to safety, and as they retreated, the water began to roil and froth, waves rolling wildly. It swelled, then something massive broke the surface.

Jazz could be heard hacking and coughing to clear water from his vents.

"Oh Primus- _Jazz!_" Prowl gaped.

"Don't shoot! It could hurt Jazz if we do," Optimus commanded sharply, digging through subspace to find something to counter it. He abruptly stopped, though, when he heard Prowl's gun slip from his limp grip and clatter to the ground. He swiftly glanced up at Prowl, who had his gaze riveted on Jazz, two neat trickles of energon running from his nose to his upper lip. Prime's gaze then flicked to Jazz, tangled in the mass of tentacles- then it hit him, and his jaw dropped. Jazz was writhing in pleasure in the tentacles' grip. One was rapidly thrusting in Jazz's port, two others pushing at the stretched rim of his port. Lubricant streamed down over his soft plating, one tentacle wiping it off his aft.

"Anf- what… what is this…" Jazz gasped. "It feels…. kinda… good..."

Prime glanced sideways at Prowl, who was currently experiencing a full-body shiver. Prime warily glanced between his two highest-ranking officers, wondering if they could possibly be classified as more freaky than the tentacled beast.

"Uhn- more! Ahhh…" A droplet of Jazz's lubricant landed on Prowl's chevron with a splat, and as if a spell was cast on him, Prowl started to move in a slow, sliding walk towards the water, mesmerized, and the water lapped at his feet, then shins. The tentacles on Jazz paused, pulling a needy whine from the saboteur.

One tentacle surfaced right before Prowl, like a sapling emerging from the ground. Then more emerged, weaving and waving up, and up- then suddenly they all latched onto Prowl, and violently dragged him underwater.

Prime watched on, open-mouthed, stumbling back a few steps.

"I've got to be dreaming," Prime muttered to himself. He'd seen a lot of strange things in his long life, but this was a totally different kind of strange.

You're not dreaming, a little voice whispered nastily in his head.

Prowl was pulled out of the water shortly after and he hung, ensnared upside down, beside Jazz. Water poured off him as he spluttered and coughed, and- Prime couldn't help but notice- his interface array was exposed. His face was flushed and his doorwings flapped weakly as he was unceremoniously dropped on his belly across Jazz's lap. A tentacle came up to bind his wrists together, and another pushed past his lips and into his mouth, which he accepted with a whimper. Jazz's hands were released and they came to rest on Prowl's back. Jazz seemed to consider for a klik, then his black hands began roaming over Prowl's white plating, smoothing over his doowings and eliciting shivers from Prowl.

One tentacle snagged Jazz's wrist, and he stilled. Another came beside it, then it reared back, and sharply snapped across Prowl's aft. Prowl jerked, startled, his doorwings straightening in surprise. Jazz grinned, catching on, and he slapped his palm down over Prowl's aft. Prowl whimpered, squirming uselessly.

Prime watched on in horror as the tentacles, having occupied Prowl and Jazz, seemed to focus on him, one moving towards him slowly. Prime back-pedalled as fast as he could, stopping only when his back hit a tree. He spun, darting around the tree, and suddenly he realised what he was doing. He was running away, leaving his friends to the mercy of the monster.

_Well. Seems like they're enjoying being at the tentacles' mercy. But not me, oh no._

As Prime continued his retreat around the tree, his foot caught in the kneed roots and he went sprawling onto the grass. He hastily pushed himself up onto his elbows and twisted around and- oh Primus- those tentacles were way too close, and getting closer…

* * *

><p>So-o-o, should Prime get tangled with the tentacles or should he be forced to watch? ;) You decide.<p>

P.S. This fic actually stemmed from a drawing that stemmed from my research into tentacle H: http : / / abarai-san . livejournal . com / 1394 . html

warning. NSFW.


	4. TFSC PJ Left Behind Chapter 1

TFSC PJ Left behind

(Yes, this is a new story. Yes, I'm still working on the tentacles one. It's giving me lots of problems and I'd be really grateful for some help. The bunny for that story ran away, so writing the second part is like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. I've written half of the second part, and though I intend to finish the fic, I'm not so sure when that will be so… yeah. :/ In the meantime, have more kinky PJ)

Pairing: Prowl X Jazz  
>Universe: G1, or whatever you like<br>Warnings: Kinky? I don't want to spoil it ;)  
>Notes: I'm not so sure who makes up the Autobot command team, but I wrote it as Optimus Prime (leader), Prowl (SICHead Tactitian), Jazz (TIC/Head of Special Ops/Black Ops), Ironhide (_Prime's best friend_/I'm not saying Weapons Specialist because that title doesn't earn you a spot on the command team), Wheeljack (Head of Science), Ratchet (Chief Medical Officer), Red Alert (Security Chief), Blaster (Head of Communications)  
>Is that correct? Differing opinions are welcome.<p>

It was a quiet, peaceful Sunday morning. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the bots on the night shift were just about done. Most bots were sleeping, Prowl and Jazz included. It was one of the rare times that Prowl wasn't up before his alarm, and after such a wild (and kinky) night with Jazz the previous night, it wasn't much of a surprise. All in all, it was a nice, quiet morning, and... It was the perfect morning for the Ark's resident prankster to strike.

Suddenly, there was an explosion of noise. Over the ship-wide PA system came a female voice screaming "OH MY GOD!" followed by dubstep of insane decibels. There were various shouts of fright, followed by cursing and swearing, and general annoyance from the bots who were rudely awakened.

Prowl jerked awake, sitting up so violently that Jazz was thrown off him.

"Sideswipe," he growled, mood immediately souring. He swept out of the room, and Jazz entertained himself for a moment by imagining a storm cloud around Prowl's head. With a chuckle, he sat up groggily and surveyed their room.

It was a complete mess. Chains, cuffs, collars, whips, empty energon cubes and more were scattered everywhere. Prowl would usually clear up, but seeing that he was currently indisposed, Jazz sighed and got down to work.

Once he'd managed to tell his processor to deal with the dubstep like it was background music, Jazz was done not too long after. Everything was stowed away in their proper cases and he was just about to stuff the lot back under the berth when he knocked his knuckles on something. Groping around, he found a remote. _Funny,_ he thought. _I don't remember this one._ He stood and swept another look across the room. _Maybe it's Prowls, but whatever it is, I can't find the case... Or the vibrator. It must have rolled under somewhere..._

Just then, blessed silence fell and bots could be heard cheering through the bulkhead. The silence was short-lived, however, as Prowl's voice came over the comm. system.

"Officers," he said, voice a controlled calm. "I am assembling a meeting _now_." _Ooh,_ Jazz thought. _He's using his scary voice. He must be really pissed off. _"Meet in the conference room in two minutes. Prowl out."

With a sigh, Jazz slipped the remote into subspace and headed out the door.

Unsurprisingly, Prowl slapped his palms down on the table and started his rant with "Something has to be done about Sideswipe."

These kinds of meetings didn't happen regularly enough to say they happened often, but they did happen often enough that Autobot High Command was pretty much used to it. These meetings happened when Sideswipe pushed Prowl's patience too far, and they mostly consisted of Prowl ranting about Sideswipe till he ran out of steam. And Prowl had a lot of stamina.

Everyone settled in for a long and unpleasant 'meeting'. It wasn't long before Wheeljack began to fiddle with something under the table, and Optimus started nudging Ironhide when the latter began to fall into recharge, and for Red Alert started getting twitchy about not sitting in front of his precious security camera feed screens. Usually, Jazz would arrange himself into a position that suggested he was listening, keep his visor on and fall into recharge, but it was still early in the day and he began to grow restless.

He dug around in subspace to find something to play with, and his fingers closed around a familiar object. Jazz leaned forward, and as casually as possible, he slipped it into his hands and wedged his hands between his knees.

It was a relatively simple design. There was an on/off button, and a dial to adjust strength. For the lack of something better to do, he began to twiddle the dial, then he depressed the on button.

"And just last week. He-" Prowl froze abruptly, hand lifted in mid-gesture, optic twitching slightly. The silence was deafening. A chair creaked as Ratchet leaned forward.

"Prowl," he said carefully. "Are you alright?" Prowl didn't respond. Just when Ratchet considered scanning him, Prowl snapped upright and jerked a nod.

"Yes," he said rather stiffly. "I am. Fine."

Prowl dragged in a deep vent of air. Jazz switched the vibrator off and Prowl visibly relaxed. Prowl cast a cursory glance around the room before letting his gaze linger on Jazz, optics narrowing.

Jazz bit his tongue to forcibly quash a growing grin. _Don't tell me... It's in him?_ Jazz let a crooked smirk through. _Oh, this meeting is gonna be __**fun**_**.**

Jazz switched on the vibrator and set it to low, continuing to smirk back. Prowl's optics narrowed further. The game was on.

Optimus looked to Jazz, who had wiped the grin off his face. Jazz shrugged, the perfect picture of innocence, and Optimus turned back to Prowl. "Prowl? Are you-"

"I assure you, sir, I am fine. Now moving on..."

Prowl was trying to wrap up the meeting as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible. Jazz was having none of that.

"So we'll leave him in the brig for longer this time and see if it works. Meeting adjourned-"

"Prowl," Jazz drawled, tipping his seat back on two legs and lazily sticking his hand in the air. Prowl flinched. "I have a suggestion." Jazz grinned, bringing the strength of the vibrator up a notch, the remote safely concealed in his other palm. Prowl's mouth flattened into a hard line, but otherwise, he showed no reaction. _Ooh, he's good._

"Go on, Jazz. We don't have all day." Prowl was using his Not Amused voice, and his fists were clenched tightly by his sides. Optimus and Ratchet exchanged suspicious glances.

"Well." Jazz let his chair drop back on all four legs with a clang. "You know how you've been saying that Sideswipe is perpetually naughty; doing stuff like swapping the car shampoo with paint stripper, or spiking the energon, or rigging the energon dispenser to spray energon at bots, or-"

"Yes," Prowl cut in. "We've already discussed this. If you have nothing further to add-"

"Oh but I do," Jazz took his own sweet time to ease the words out. Prowl's control was pretty darn good, but it wasn't perfect. Jazz just needed it to crack. He turned the vibrator up another notch. "Generally your solution is to chuck him in the brig and hope that it would make some significant difference to his personality and that he would emerge from his stint in the brig a completely different mech. Obviously, this isn't the case. Just ask anyone. He's the same since the day he was sparked, isn't he-"

"Jazz," Prowl ground out. "Get. To. The. Point."

"So, my point is," and here he paused for dramatic effect, "why don't we try something... Different?"

"Hm. Do tell." Ratchet seemed intrigued.

"Something... More creative." Another notch up.

Prowl's cooling fans kicked into high gear. They sputtered for a moment, then stilled completely as he forcibly shut them off.

Everyone was about to stare at Prowl, but Jazz diverted their attention. "Perhaps... Getting him to clean the rec room floor with a toothbrush." Jazz twiddled the dial, creating a pulsing rhythm. Prowl twitched, thighs trembling. "Or lock him up with the Dinobots."

"Jazz." Prowl interrupted, striding up to the table, fingers curling too tightly around the ledge. "I really have... Matters to attend to. Perhaps we can continue this discussion later-"

"But Prowl." Jazz grinned lazily, practically tasting the victory. Prowl was coming in front of the whole command team and there was nothing he could do about it. His dignity would not let him flee or beg. "I think I have a fantastic idea that will work."

"Jazz-"

"I propose popping him in stasis cuffs and handing him over to me to suffer my... Special treatment." Jazz felt truly evil, but it was completely worth it. Prowl made a sort of strangled gasp, fingers screeching against the table's surface. His optics flashed white, mouth dropping open, and his doorwings trembled, reflections from the ceiling lights jittering crazily over the glossy panels. Jazz saw none of that, though. He'd seen Prowl overload enough times already. Instead, his attention was on everyone else.

Wheeljack looked confused. So did Optimus, but Optimus looked more worried than Wheeljack did. Ratchet and Ironhide recognised what was happening to Prowl, and both wore identical horrified expressions. Red Alert almost went on a fritz, immediately suspecting 'con involvement. Blaster looked shocked, but he recovered quickly and looked around with a thoughtful smile. Jazz was grinning like a Cheshire cat, and when he caught Blaster's gaze, he quickly tamed his grin, but Blaster quirked an enigmatic smile and looked back at Prowl.

There was a crack and a hiss and a building whine as Prowl's coolant system submitted to the strain of his overheated body and he allowed his cooling fans back on. Prowl lifted his head, and when Jazz met his murderous gaze, the grin was wiped off his face. Steam began to billow out of Prowl's vents and he manually vented a gust of air, the hot clouds wisping around his cheeks. Prowl straightened. A loud crack echoed in the room as his spinal column realigned. Even Red Alert had fallen silent.

Prowl wasn't a large mech, but the way he stood, with his doorwings held high and wide, fists clenched tight and frame shrouded in mist, made his presence fill the room. The light from the ceiling behind his head cast his face in shadows.

'You are so dead,' Blaster informed Jazz over a private channel. Jazz was about to reply but Prowl moved.

He was a lightning white blur as he leapt onto the table and launched off to tackle Jazz. Pure instinct saved the saboteur as he flung himself out of the chair and towards the door. Prowl compensated for Jazz's movement, using his momentum to tip the vacated chair over and to flip back onto his two feet. Jazz bolted. Prowl followed, for all intents and purposes to kill and main Jazz as his tanto blades slipped into his palms. Gradually, the sound of running footsteps faded, then there were twin sounds of screeching tyres, followed by wailing police sirens. That, too, eventually faded and all was quiet within the meeting room.

Optimus broke the silence. "What just happened?" He sounded dazed.

Blaster leaned down and scooped the remote off the floor, which Jazz had dropped in his haste to flee Prowl's wrath. Popping it into his subspace, he quirked a grin. "I think Jazz just lost the game."

Jazz was not seen or heard of since that day. Prowl was back to normal the next day, but Jazz had simply vanished. Not even Red Alert could locate him, and this frustrated the Security Director. But in order to find Jazz, Red Alert would have to speak to Prowl, and... He didn't really want to do that. Prowl quietly took on Jazz's duties in addition to his own, and he acted as if nothing had happened. The same went for the rest of the command team. The rest of the crew was told that Jazz was currently indisposed and any other information was classified. Then, out of the blue about a week later, Jazz came back and fit himself back into everyone's lives. But something had changed. With other bots, he was his usual friendly and outgoing self. Around Prowl... He was noticeably more subdued. He spoke quietly to Prowl, not meeting the tactician's gaze. Since they rarely appeared as a pair in public, nobody noticed. The command team did notice, but they weren't sure they wanted to know what happened to Jazz. Whatever it was, they didn't ask and Prowl didn't tell…

A/N: so you know how I like to do my stories in two parts and ask you a question. ;) so. Question is... What happened to Jazz? And what will Prowl and Jazz to do Sideswipe? Ooh, it's only gonna get better.

Cookies to whoever knows the dubstep Sideswipe was blasting over the PA system. Also, tanto blades are short Japanese daggers. This is a reference to Prowl's TFA to: MACROBUTTON HTML Send


End file.
